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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23388073">Crosses (Remembering)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mar106/pseuds/mar106'>mar106</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Death, Gen, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Soldiers, War, World War I, only for the second 2/3 tho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:34:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23388073</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mar106/pseuds/mar106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which I use my knowledge of Military History and the ways soldiers mourn and remember the fallen to think up what MEKA soldiers might do, and what Hana might do in the Great War. </p><p>I don't imagine it's a fun read, but - that's war. And who knows, it might be as cathartic for some to read as it was for me to write.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Crosses (Remembering)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23377690">crosses all over</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/hot_girl13/pseuds/hot_girl13">hot_girl13</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Completely inspired by the title and summary of dykecrimes' work. It has literally nothing to do with the story itself, as far as I know. I haven't read it yet. (This might change when I do read it). I read the title and summary, and I had a spark of inspiration.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    Whenever one of her detachment died, they took a small piece of their mech, carved a cross into it, and welded it to the wall of the large, shared space in which all the mechs were stored and serviced. If the mech was lost along with the pilot, they simply carved a cross into the wall and left a blank space around it.</p>
<p></p><div>
<p></p><div><p>    The walls were covered in crosses.</p></div><hr/><p>    She had so wanted to help the war effort, but as she was unable to become a soldier (being a woman) and did not have the training to become a nurse, she became an ambulance driver. She never thought what it would mean, even to behind the front. When the first wounded man she carried died before the got him to the field hospital, and was summarily dumped by the roadside, she at least wanted to remember. So, using her little army-issue knife, she carved a cross into the back of the cab, just above her shoulder.</p>
<p></p><div><p>    The cab was covered it crosses.</p></div><hr/><p>    One of the soldiers' bodies had jingled oddly as it was tossed out of the truck. Pretending to stretch her legs, Hana surreptitiously checked the bags on the man's chest. One was full of round metal discs with names and numbers on them, and with them was a scrap of blood-spotted, muddy, well-worn paper that had a couple of lines of poetry in slanting, half-cursive writing. It read:</p></div><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>A pocket full of tags I have,</em><br/>
<em>A leaden weight upon my back.<br/>
</em>
    <em>Faces imprinted in my mind,<br/>
</em>
    <em>Memories that I shall never lack.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><div>
  <p>    She took the man's own disc, and threaded it onto the string which held all the others. She hung it from the corner of the canvas screen which covered the cab, where it jingled as the ambulance jolted over the muddy, rocky roads.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    She found it covered the groans fairly well, and dispersed the more-awful silences.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>That piece of poetry is my own. To paraphrase M*A*S*H*, war is war and hell is hell, 'cause in hell there ain't no innocent bystanders, and war is chock-full of 'em. In fact, except a couple of the brass, nearly everybody here is an innocent bystander. </p><p>Don't get me wrong, I love military history, with all its intricacies and incredible stories. However, it comes at a price.</p><p>This story is part of the <a href="https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject">LLF Comment Project</a>, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:</p><p>Feedback</p><ul>
<li>Short comments</li>
<li>Long comments</li>
<li>Questions</li>
<li>Constructive criticism</li>
<li>“&lt;3” as extra kudos</li>
<li>Reader-reader interaction</li>
</ul><p><a href="https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta">LLF Comment Builder</a><br/> </p><p> </p><p>This author replies to comments.</p><p>Note: If you'd rather I not reply to your comment (if, for example, you don't feel up to starting a conversation) then feel free to sign your comment "Whisper" and I will only write "thanks."</p></blockquote></div></div>
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